“Hello?” I answer the phone. I don’t recognize the number, but it’s the second time they’re calling, so I figure it’s not spam or anything like that.

“Is this Rachel Nogueras?” The voice on the other line asks quickly. She sounds stressed.

“Yes, this is she.” My heart beats into my throat.

“I’m a nurse at Northwestern. Your sister’s had an accident. She asked me to call you… before she passed away,” she says. My vision blurs. My heart stops. I forget how to breathe. “There’s a child here—her son—and she needs you to take care of him. She doesn’t have a spouse.”

I know that but I can’t talk. Her son Asher. Eight years old, now without a father or mother. She wants me to take care of him? I don’t even know how to take care of myself. I can’t believe she’s dead. What happened? An accident. What kind of accident?

“Rachel?”

I gulp in some air and manage to swallow. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Can you pick up the child?”

Shoot. I have to do that now? How the hell do you take care of those things? How to I help him process his mom dying, when I can barely comprehend it?

I take in a long breath. I have to take care of him. Who knows what’ll happen to him if I don’t? An orphanage? Foster care? I’ve heard horror stories from neighbors about those places. I can’t let her only son go. I have to do it for Ruby. I have to do it for her.

“Rachel? Are you still here?”

I blink and some water escapes, but I manage to calm my breathing down. “Yes. I will pick up her son.”

I end the phone call with a “thank you” and wipe my tears. God, this place is a mess. How am I supposed to raise a child here? I have an apartment, while Asher is used to living in a house. My kitchen island is covered with papers and my bedroom has dirty laundry on the floor. I’m not sure if I make enough money to support another person. My pantry is way under stocked.

I sigh. This is for Ruby. I have to do it. No excuses.

It’s already pretty late—nine at night—so I think I can just take Asher to bed when he gets here. Of course, I’ll have to set up a bed for him. But once he’s asleep, I can work on cleaning my home and making it kid-friendly. Then tomorrow, I’ll get groceries. One step at a time.

After pulling out a twin mattress that I use when a friend stays over from my closet, I put on the sheets, take a pillow from my bed, and grab a blanket from the living room. Then, I get in my car and drive to the hospital.

I’m thankful I don’t have to see my sister’s dead body (yet; I’ll deal with those emotions at the funeral) because Asher is in the front waiting room. I spot his brown curls before he sees me. He’s alone. Poor thing. I start walking towards him. When he sees me, he gets up and runs over to wrap his little arms around my stomach in a hug. I kneel down and give him a hug from there.

When I release him, I see his red and tear-stained face. “Hey,” I say gently, taking my thumb and wiping his cheeks. “It’ll be okay. I’m here.”

He sniffles and his breathing sounds more like choking. “My mama…”

“Shh, I know,” I say, rubbing his back. His crying breaks my heart. The poor thing. “I’m here.”

On the drive home, we listen to the _Mary Poppins_ soundtrack, neither of us saying a word. When we get home, I ask if he’s had dinner. He says no, so I quickly heat up some boxed mac and cheese and pour him a glass of milk. I give him a small portion because he should be about to go to bed. I actually have a random spare toothbrush lying in the bathroom closet, unopened, so I give him that to use. In the morning, we’ll stop by his house to pick up his things.

We enter my bedroom, where I set up his makeshift bed. He views it, then looks back to me and asks, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

I sigh. I wanted to clean up a bit… but it can wait. “Of course,” I say. I let him lie in my bed while I get ready, then I join him. “Goodnight, Asher.”

“Goodnight, Aunt Rae.”